Misery
by MexiJew
Summary: In which Grimmjow has been alive for too long, and wishes for a challenge. Grimmichi. Violence, slightly OOC Grimmjow...rated M for a reason. Due to the intense response to the pilot, this is being continued.
1. Pilot

_Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!_

–_Dracula by Bram Stoker–_

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or any references made to any particular person, subject, line, etc., etc.

Summary: In which Grimmjow has been alive for too long and wishes for a challenge, and a challenge he gets.

*Depending on the reviews I get, this could be a angsty one shot or it could be turned into a story. O.o Review away, my children. ._.*

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><p>Pilot<p>

Ah, the night; whispers of excitement and promise whooshed by in the evening wind, the pale moon tinting the earth with her ghostly charm. Leaves flitted on by, skidding across the rough pavement. Shadows danced in and out of the peripheral vision, causing second guesses and nervous giggles to bubble from adolescents, a picturesque opening scene for a god awful horror flick.

And a horror flick it would be.

Long, feral teeth were bared, accompanied by a swift lick of the lips; it was _delectable, _the scene bestowed upon him. Giggling females, clammy hands palming the wiry muscle of the male's arm, paired up in twos; all in all, two girls and three boys, wanting nothing more than a good scare and some of whatever was in the bags.

_Cannabis. Booze. A good time._

A low, animalistic rumble bubbled up from his throat as calculating eyes watched. Many years, he had done this same thing, watching his prey like a hungry jungle cat. It had gotten easier, and not just because he had had practice; years ago, his victims would run. Run, because he was a demon, a witch, a dreadful blood sucking agent of Satan.

But now? Now, they practically _begged _for him. Curious stares and furtive steps quickly turned into polite conversations and neck bearing. Like they _knew _he was not of them.

It had gotten worse. Since the century turned and nineteen's became twenties, he now owned the label of _sexy. _Nothing about what he did was remotely sexy. Throat ripping and drinking every last drop of blood like it was going out of style was definitely _not _attractive.

At least, it shouldn't have been.

Boredom became evident on his pale face, his teeth _aching_ with the thought of this all you can eat buffet that was about to happen. Slowly, like a panther in the wild, he stalked down the tree he was perched upon and began his decent. Quickly, using the god like speed he was blessed with (or cursed with?), he got ahead of them; a good hundred feet.

_You're lost; you need directions._

He molded his face into one that felt confused, worried; then, he stepped out, blending in with the shadows in his "penguin suit"; did he mention that he had just come back from the opera and got separated from his _lover?_

The scenario, so old and unoriginal, has never failed him yet.

Reaching into the jacket, he pulled out the pocket watch; an ancient relic that had stopped working as soon as his heart rotted and stopped working as well.

A constant reminder that he was not _human. _

"…and then he was like – oh?" The voice of the taller woman sounded from behind him. Slowly, he turned around, hoping that he looked as dumbfounded as he made himself feel.

"Oh, hello. I'm sorry, but could you direct me to parking lot? I got separated from my wife…" Her hard, gray eyes softened, as did everyone else's as they gave him the once over.

_ I've still got it!_

"Yeah, sure Mr.…?"

"Smith. Mr. Smith. A pleasure to meet you." He extended a strong hand, a small smile hiding his weapon of choice. The woman took it, and her friends murmured agreement.

A bodacious blonde; an athletic black man; a small, tan man; and, last but not least, the quiet, intellectual one.

A feast indeed.

"Actually, we were just heading back that way, weren't we?" Her eyes were sparkling with interest; his own, unnatural ones were silent; cloudy. Eyes were the window to the soul. One needs a soul to begin with in order to have windows for one.

"Would you mind letting me…tag along?" A quick, aggressive nod as she moved closer.

_God. _

He could hear the blood roaring through her beating heart; she was nervous. _Good, good._

"My name's Hannah, by the way. And that's Juliet, William, Jose, and Michael." In order, as he had addressed them in his head; the one named Michael was still staring him down. _Did he suspect?_

"It's a pleasure," he murmured warmly, walking with them as they began their chatter again.

_Soon. _

The woman, Hannah, had resumed small talk with him; where are you from, what do you do for a living (oh, ha ha.), this _wife _of his…

There was always the woman who thought she was the _different _one, better then the made up missing lover of his.

Amusing; it was truly amusing to watch these women swoon.

If only they knew. If only they knew what he truly was.

Would they stay?

"Well…we're here!" Hannah's voice stung his sensitive ear drums. Like cracking a face mask, his feral, blinding white grin broke out, replacing the calm, small grin.

_Dinner time. _

"Indeed…we're _here." _Hannah's friends retaliated like someone had slapped them. He appraised the scene with electric blue eyes before going for the kill, unruly hair now showing as his hat fell to the ground, an ominous sign to anyone approaching.

Screams tickled his ears as Hannah began to weakly clutch at his biceps, like it would do anything to stop him from ending her short lived life.

_It wouldn't. _

Holding her close, he dipped down and latched on, sinking the elongated canines deep. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he drained Hannah of every last drop.

_The others. _The small girl did nothing to sate his blood lust, a crimson trail now dripping down the corner of his mouth.

_Ah. _Now _to the others. _With quick speed, he let the corpse drop before gaining upon the intellectual one, _Michael. _

He liked males best; something about how sweet their blood tasted always got him. Females had their own scent tainted with the perfumes and chemicals of beauty supplies. Males were pure; and, he always liked a challenge.

"No! Please…no!" Michael pleaded, his hands attempting to stop his fangs from gorging himself upon the slender, exposed neck. Hungrily, he bit into him, savoring the instant flow of tangy, sweet liquid. The bane of his existence was also his elixir; he wished to live like a human, to survive like them, but he just couldn't.

He needed blood.

Michael had long ago stopped struggling, and his breath was getting weak; he could feel it on his ear. Soft gusts of winds played with his electric blue locks as he let the second corpse fall. Finger prints were not an issue; he had lost them long ago. He was 'born' when his _doctor _couldn't save him from the dangers of the Black Death; yeah, he was _that _old. He had sat with kings, plotted with thieves, protected families, hunted and killed just because he wanted to; he had done all those things.

But there was one thing that he just couldn't get a hold on;

_A challenge. An intriguing individual that was worth his limitless amount of time._

Only one human had served him up such a thing. In eighteen fifty three, when he had traveled and made his way to Britain, he had been minding his own business in a small bar, reading what had happened during the day (for he can't go out during the day).

And _Gods, _was that scent of his intoxicating. Like a wintergreen mint crushed into the pure, earth just after a nice, heavy rain. A nice heavy rain that had pelted the ground of a strawberry patch. It had been about three day's time since he last fed, and there was no way he was going to pass up the delicious snack.

Politely leaving a hefty tip, he pushed back from his table and walked out of the small restaurant, bright blue hair slicked back, peeking out from the bowler hat that sat lopsided upon his head. Eyes had dulled over the past three days, now a deep navy blue instead of the bright electric blue they were.

Almost frantically, he began to search for his victim until his eyes landed on a small man with bright orange hair and heart stopping milk chocolate eyes. Had he a heart, he would most certainly be feeling the pitter patter one feels when they began to get excited.

But he didn't; he just left everything up to imagination. Slowly, he began to move towards his target. As if said target knew he was coming, those beautiful eyes landed on him, and an elegant orange brow rose. He, too, was dressed in his Sunday's best. Dipping his hat lightly, as well as bowing, he flashed a small smile.

"Hello, good sir; do you happen to know the time?" He knew how dumb he sounded; he had forgotten that his pocket watch chain could be visible, but either way the orange haired man reached into his jacket and flicked open a silver case.

"Ten o' clock." _Such a small voice._

"Thank you, good sir. Say, what is your name?" If he was with his older friends, before they began to suspect anything, he would have _never _uttered such words of kindness.

"…Kurosaki. Ichigo Kurosaki." Extending a hand and giving it a swift shake, he smiled at Kurosaki, Ichigo Kurosaki and took his place next to him, engaging the young man in small talk. Soon, the sun's rays began to peek out from behind the mountains, warning him of the time he had left. They had taken seats at the bar, discussing life and politics. It was getting late, and one knew how damnable it was to be an _invert, _so he couldn't possibly ask to go home with him or vice versa.

But, he need to feed, and soon.

"It's gotten rather late, wouldn't you say?" Ichigo brought up, nursing the brew he had ordered earlier in their conversation. Mr. Kurosaki never questioned why he never ordered anything with him.

"Indeed it has." He left the sentence open, the question hanging lightly in the air. _May I walk you home, old boy? Say, crime rates are bad; we should walk in pairs. I'll walk you home first, I'm bigger than you._

What came next was something he never expected, a possibility he had shrugged off.

"But time doesn't matter to you anymore, does it? You're a vampire." Frozen in shock, he let his deep blue eyes trance over the man before him, curiosity zinging every nerve in his body.

"Oh? And what makes you think that?" His voice became hushed as he leaned in, baring the elongated canines lightly. Ichigo did not flinch; he merely raised his eyebrow again before taking a small sip of his drink.

"I'm not stupid; I've seen you before. You're eyes were the brightest blue I had ever _seen. _But, now, they are flat and dull, like you've been _starved." _He enunciated the word starved like it had a special meaning; and it did.

For he was _starving. _

"I never said you were an idiot; what I really want to know is how come, all this time, you knew about me being an undead, and you didn't do anything about it? You didn't walk away from me; refuse to drink with me…in fact, if I do say so myself, we had a charming conversation." He grinned, the expression taking a slightly lewd form. Ichigo's lip twitched, like he was about to smile but thought _better _of it.

"You intrigue me. And, I figure if I get my fill now, I'll stop wondering about you."

"You wonder? What, _exactly_, do you wonder? Whether or not the missing women they've been looking for are truly _missing? _Why the crime rates are at their highest ever since men could create wheels? Why most of the murders to the women involved a neck wound? You can stop you're wondering; it isn't me. I'm not fond of females. They taste bad." The blunt statement made the orange haired man choke on his drink lightly, but he recovered, quickly and smoothly. The sable brown eyes, expressive in every way, made their way back to him, alight with many emotions, one being cold curiosity.

"Well, may I ask a question of my own, something I _truly _wonder, _vampire?" _He coated the word with poisoned honey. Menacing blue eyes met the brown ones in a vicious power play. When he said nothing, Ichigo continued on;

"Why haven't you _fed _off me yet?" Again, the man took him by surprise; Ichigo _knew _that he was a vampire, and now that he thought about it, he should have seen it coming. But to have him suggest he feed of him in the bluntest way, about a very serious matter, was just _mind boggling. _So, he responded with a quick wit, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Because, Mr. Kurosaki, we're in public." Before the words were even out of his mouth, he sensed movement coming from Ichigo's chair and watched, watched like a predator eyeing a juicy meal as he slowly began to walk outside, turning on his heel and looking over his shoulder, the expression on his face saying nothing more than _where's your argument now?_

Quickly, he jumped up from his chair and followed Ichigo outside, not at all surprised to see him traipsing toward an alley way.

_Oh sweet Jesus._

With a low animalistic growl, he followed, before rounding a corner and finding those calculating eyes glued to him, and with a simple movement, the simple motion of tipping one's head to the side when confused, caused him to act; and now, his fangs were latched into the neck of a rather delectable treat.

He did not kill Ichigo Kurosaki. Merely drank enough to send him into euphoria before letting go and jumping back violently. The man was still staring at him, eyes slightly wider as a small, almost delicate hand came up to the puncture wounds he had just made. And, then he fainted.

He had not gotten his full fill, oh _no._

He'd be taking his prize with him.

And he did.

He took his prize, he reaped the rewards, and time caught up with him; what seemed like a perfect example of a hideous fairytale ended so fast, he could have blinked. It left him bitter. Spiteful. Vulgar. Whatever Ichigo Kurosaki did to him it was only when he was around, and him alone; he'd reverted to his old ways. Taken to sipping whiskey and bourbon. He'd made his way to America, down to Africa, and then all the way to Japan.

So here he was, lounging about in the expensive flat he'd bought with all the money he'd stocked up over the years, leaning across his balcony and admiring the fantastic view with a scowl while the night breeze fiddled with his open tail coats.

Even his own _fucking _conscious didn't want to talk about what had happened all those years ago. Oh sure, he'd been with other people, male and female, but never were they satisfying, nor did he ever encounter a taste so _good _as his had been.

They'd lived like that, Ichigo being a willing donor while he cared and took care of him.

Until the night it all ended, the night that would truly set him on the destructive path he was on now; three people were dead, and now he had about seven or ten witnesses against him, read to point him out in a row of other criminals, of other people with hair like his, maybe even sharp canines.

_Get it together. _

He planned on living forever; or, until the pain got so unbearable he decided to waltz out of the house in with the sun high in the sky.

Sunlight.

He hadn't seen sunlight in so long; he almost missed the way it warmed his back as he was working; just a regular farm boy.

Enough of that. After his nice meal, it was time to go to bed. It was nearly five thirty in the morning, and he'd rather be sleeping, for when he slept, he was truly dead, and the dull memories of his past slipped away, leaving him alone to rest in peace.

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><p>AN: Please, review! :)


	2. Mirrors

_Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym._

–_Stephen King–_

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or any references made to any particular person, subject, line, etc., etc.

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><p>Mirrors<p>

Dusk. It was the morning to him as his bright blue eyes opened, scanning the clean interior of his quarters. Dark gray walls and a single white one, as well as a cherry wood dresser and an old Grand piano he had acquired nearly a hundred years ago. To this day, its haunting melody even gave _him _chills.

Another dreamless night as he slowly slipped out of bed, his most sluggish movements still graceful compared to that of a clumsy human. To the right of his large, king size bed (he liked being pampered, regardless of being dead) a glass clock hung on the wall, displaying that the time of day was six thirty four in the afternoon.

An hour until sundown and he could prowl the night once more.

He reached above, tucking his head in as he stretched the muscle that roped his arms. He never ate; there was no point. It all turned to ash anyway. Drinking, however, he could bear, and it was a habit he'd gotten himself into, like pretending to breathe. It was easier that way, so he wouldn't scare his dinner.

Even though his body was built for no pain, his mind wasn't; every now and again his mind would wade into dark waters, just to be attacked viciously by memories of the past.

_Why, Ichigo? _He'd catch himself thinking, usually right before he went to sleep. If he had only one question to ask, one thing to say to him before he died, he'd of asked why.

Instead of moping, he would feed. Or, he'd write; write about his story, just so that one day he could publish his horrors and watch as the whole world shrieked in fear and yelled in appreciation.

But that was just a fantasy of his, for he knew that if he did publish a memoir, it would only be ranked number one on the _New York Bestsellers List _not for its tangible evidence that being what he was utterly _sucked, _but for something ridiculous. The reviews would be even worse;

"_Devastatingly beautiful…I had chills!" – *enter publishing company here*_

"_A real page turner! Makes the reader want to sink their teeth into more!" – *enter ridiculous author here* _

Chuckles reverberated throughout the room, and he was pleasantly surprised that he had made himself laugh; it had been a while since he had. Humor was something you forgot when you've been alive for so long.

Languidly, he strolled over to the leather couch and sat, eyes still barely open as he flicked on the television; it was good to keep up with the trends and such of the current society it was in; one can't simply dress in tuxedos at a club, or dress as a knight when attending a wedding party.

An advertisement for a club began playing, catchy music catching his hazy attention.

"_Are you ready for the most awesome party of the year? We are! Come on in to Club Out & About! We're having one dollar jell-o shots, two dollar spider bites and assorted _brews_ and three dollar long islands! Come in before ten, and get your first drink free! Ladies, if you arrive before nine thirty, you get a stamp that allows you half drinks all night long! So come on! You've got nowhere else to go, except Club Out & About!"_

So that's how it was going to be? He was going to go to club and prowl on the adolescents, a break from his normal routine.

_Sounds fantastic._

With even less enthusiasm, he got up from the couch and headed back to his room to change into the appropriate attire.

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><p>"You're making it sound like I'm some kind of murderer!"<p>

"Well, technically, you _are._"

"All I'm doing is eating meat; I'm not out there chopping Bessie's head off."

Ichigo huffed, running a hand through his orange hair before sipping at the Long Island iced tea he'd gotten. Before they had even gotten inside the club, he and one of his best friends had gotten into a debate about vegetarianism.

He was man; therefore, he liked meat. Rukia, on the other hand, could not keep her tiny little mouth shut every time Ichigo was about to devour a medium rare steak with a side of pure fucking _awesome. _

His other friends, Renji, Chad, Uryuu, and Orihime, had stayed out of it, for the most part. They'd throw in two cents here and there. Rukia and him had been at it for a while at the flat they shared with Renji and Orihime (they roomed together, for they went to the same university; everything was strictly platonic, though, which was nice.) before they had both suggested going out and blowing off steam.

That only worked if one person went the other way while the other either went home or went in the exact opposite direction. But, after they both had a few drinks, the atmosphere had lifted and they were no longer at each other's throats.

_For now. _

Rukia's petite form had turned to face Renji, signaling the end of the conversation.

"You should humor her and be vegetarian for a week." Uryuu's teasing voice sounded in his ear, cause Ichigo to jump slightly.

"I wouldn't be able to do it. I love meat too much."

"That can be taken wrong on so many levels."

"Get your mind out the gutter, pervert." They both chuckled before starting up a simple conversation about the classes they were taking that year. Uryuu wanted to become a scientist, which was no surprise, while Ichigo himself wanted to be a doctor. His old man was one, and a damn fine one at that, besides all of his quirks, and he aspired to be as good as him one day.

Though he'd rather eat a pudding made out of iron nails and crushed hopes than admit it.

"So, Halloween's right around the corner!" Orihime announced loudly, her appletini balanced gracefully between her fingers. Blinding smiles was everyone's reply. Halloween was a…_specialty…_to Karakura, especially to Ichigo's group. Not only did the whole town have the best costumes, they had the best urban legends.

Like that one, about a fucking _vampire. _It was said that on Halloween night, when all of the teenager's were about, a vampire would come out of slumber and search the town for his long lost lover. And, if you crossed paths with him and lead him astray, he'd suck you dry. It was also said that he'd only stop if he found that estranged lover, which had died so long ago because she was human.

What confused Ichigo greatly, though, was why didn't he just turn his lover into a vamp? They'd live together forever, and all that fairy tale stuff that get's sprinkled like sparkles into everyone's childhood.

"I know what I'm gonna be!" Rukia squealed, swaying with the old eighties American song. Something by a greasy saxophonist; either way, Ichigo was digging it too.

"Oh yeah? A stick of celery?" Renji, his other friend, taunted. Amethyst eyes narrowed at the dark, almost black pools of Renji.

"_No…_actually, I was thinking that we should all become a cult of _vampires! _And, go around freaking out the neighbor kids! Of course, we'd give them candy and stuff. But you know." She winked in Ichigo's direction. "And I _know _you'd look good with some fangs."

It was no secret that Rukia had some feelings for Ichigo. They had met in High School, and when she was cornered for her small size, Ichigo had gone to help her out, only to be surprised when she had knocked down four large guys and was only panting lightly. They'd become great friends, always having each other's backs.

Ichigo wouldn't' deny feeling a little something for the petite spit fire as well. But, he was trying to keep everything as friendly as possible. He had his education to consider.

"Yeah! That'd be sweet, we could all get those caps you put over your teeth and get capes and all that other blood sucker stuff." Renji snickered. Ichigo's redheaded friend was not into Halloween as much as everyone else was; and, since he was the eldest of the group, he saw what they were doing as childish.

"Why don't we make it a costume party?" The orangette suggested, finishing off his tea. Everyone turned and nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah! We could invite people from high school, like Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizoru!" Only Orihime, Chad, Uryuu and he would really appreciate their high school friends' presence. It had been a while since Ichigo had seen their idiotic, smiling faces. It'd be nice to catch up.

A small smile graced his lips. Knocking twice on the hard wood of the bar, he waited for his drink to be refilled as he listened to the idle chatter of his friends.

Suddenly, a bright blue blur caught his attention. Swiveling in his chair, he scanned the crowed slowly before locking eyes with someone across the room. His breath caught in his throat as an ocean of emotion waved over him, just by looking into the Caribbean blue eyes. He felt his own eyebrow raise and his lips part slightly. There was something about this person that attracted him like a magnet.

Dressed in a white button up with a black, tuxedo looking jacket on as well. Stone wash jeans completed the attire, but even though he was fit for a night of dancing with hot ladies and possibly taking one home (or two, or three), he looked so out of place.

And it seemed like he had eyes only for Ichigo, which was making him extremely uncomfortable.

"Wow! It's nearly one o'clock!" Rukia exclaimed. The orangette shook himself out of his stupor and turned around, facing his friends.

"No way? Well, uh, I have classes tomorrow, so –"

"Don't worry, we're leaving anyways." Renji murmured, hustling their other friends through before following. Chancing a glance back, Ichigo turned his head, looking down at his shoulder first before raising his eyes to try and meet those baby blues he'd already become addicted too.

And, he found nothing. With light disappointment, he frowned and was jogging to meet up with his friends, where they were already piling up into a cab.

Unbeknownst to him, though, the very pair of eyes he'd been entranced with had been watching him this whole time.

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><p>Unbelievable. This whole ordeal he had just been flung into was just that; it was surreal, there was no <em>way <em>he had just seen what had been bestowed upon him. _His Ichigo, _alive and _well. _Just the fact that he'd seen him _alive _was enough to send him over the edge of insanity.

Was this his chance? His chance to ask why, to interrogate his love and demand answers? _No. _The look that had come from those expressive eyes he had grown to know and appreciate were filled with only curiosity and nervousness. Whoever this mirror image of Ichigo was, he was definitely not as ballsy as the only two hundred years ago. His Ichigo would have marched across the floor and called him out for what he was; he would have smiled at seeing the baffled expression that graced his own face; and he would have been able to hurt him all the same.

This one…this orange haired young man who squirmed under his stare…he was not sure he could get used to seeing him around town every day. He'd either pull his hair out from wondering or he'd investigate him until his own brain was bleeding form over exertion.

He would approach him; it would be the only way to end this mystery he'd concocted for himself, all by changing the normal routine he established for himself all those years ago; just by breaking from the norm of his long and dull life he had reopened many wounds that had finally become bearable.

_Why, Ichigo?_

He had to ask him. He absolutely _had _to, even if it killed him. Even knowing that the answer he'd most likely get would be the questioning stare Ichigo could do so well, or the orangette would think he a mad man, and have him arrested for harassment.

That wouldn't stop him.

He'd find out who this man was if it was the last thing he did.

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><p>AN: Shorter than the first…I did _not _expect such a response! Wow! I really appreciate it guys! (: Definitely going to consider making this a project. Please, review! And I hope you continue to enjoy! (: I was afraid that having me address Grim as him and he all the time would worry and confuse, but it's keeping him veiled in shadow, which is good for my story. It won't be like this forever, so don't worry. P.S. the mind blowing beautiful detail everyone loved about the first one is kinda gone when Ichigo's speaking. :D Because Grimmjow's been alive for so long, old English sticks with him. Ichigo is only around twenty two in my story. :3 And yes, Ichigo thinks that Grimm's long lost lover is female. That is not a type. :D


	3. Curiosity

_Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody._

–_Mark Twain–_

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or any references made to any particular person, subject, line, etc., etc.

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><p>Curiosity<p>

"They look _stupid." _Ichigo deadpanned, fiddling with the plastic in his mouth. Chad shrugged, messing with his as well.

"A lot more real looking than I expected." It was Ichigo's turn to shrug as he admired the fangs they had all gotten mold to the shape of his canines; little caps filled with some god awful concoction that would mold to the shape of your tooth and be useful for a life time.

_Why was he dressing up as a vampire again?_

It was a few days before Halloween, which meant that it was a few days before their costume party. Oh, did he mention half of the damn town was coming? It would have been perfect, had it not been at his uncle's million dollar mansion. White walls had been decorated with black and red ribbons, as well as little round tables for drinks and foods. Ichigo and his friends Renji, Rukia, Orihime, Chad, and Uryuu had all taken a room (there _had _to be at least fifty rooms available.) in order to make setting up and supervising easier.

"Well…now that you mention it…" The orangette swiped a tongue over one of the fake fangs, surprised at how sharp they were. An off white, so it wouldn't look _that _fake.

Back the problem with using his uncle's mansion; it was _old as hell. _The walls were white as _hell. _Don't even get him started on the carpets. If one thing went wrong and the walls were white with an interesting tinge to them after he got back, it would be taken out in Ichigo's hide.

Definitely not something he was looking forward to.

"Okay guys, it's been ten minutes; you should be able to take them off now…oh wow, they look really real!" Orihime exclaimed, Rukia following behind. They were taking turns decorating and putting on fangs; that way, the party area would be decorated constantly while everyone was getting their fangs to work. There was a method to their madness.

"Sweet." Ichigo muttered, a small lisp formed from the foreign objects in his mouth. He popped them out, surprised at how easily they came out.

"Okay, now put them back in to make sure they work." Rukia demanded, arms crossed as she watched him follow through with her demands. They clicked in, nice and sturdy, and he clicked them back out. Rukia smirked.

"Good Ginger!"

"Don't call me that, short stack."

"Don't call me short!"

Ichigo snorted and walked out, putting the fake teeth on the counter. Rukia stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry, making them both crack up at how immature they were being.

It made him truly miss being a kid.

"Oi, Ichigo! Come help me real quick." Renji nearly yelped, for he was balancing on a ladder with a hammer and nail in one hand, while the other held a streamer in place. Ichigo nearly screamed.

"What are you doing! Don't nail that in!" He jogged over to the ladder, climbing up on the other side with vigor, ignoring the "wobble, wobble" of the ladder. Because, unlike Weebles ®, when a ladder wobbles, you land right on your fucking face.

"Oooh shit! –" Renji exclaimed, abandoning his nail and hammer by tossing it in the hallway to the right as Ichigo flailed and latched onto his arm. They both landed in a pile of entangled limbs, cuss words of every color erupting from their mouths like two excited volcanoes.

"What the _hell _was that for?"

"Didn't I tell you not to nail shit to the wall?"

"Well, you could have been fucking _civilized _and just said 'hey, Renji, please don't do that' instead of tackling me _and _the ladder to the fucking ground!"

"This could have been avoided had you just listened to me!"

"Yeah, right, when did you forget that I have the memory of a fucking gold fish?" At this, both men paused, still hot blooded from what had just happened. The ironic, handicapped comment about his memory, however, sent them into a fit of laughter.

Chad and Uryuu had been moving tables and were watching the whole time, attempting to hide their own laughter while Orihime and Rukia, in the process of molding their fangs, had rushed out looking slightly alarmed even if they both knew it was just boys being boys.

"You're not bleeding profusely from anywhere are you?" The redhead snorted as he helped Ichigo up off the ground. The orangette snickered.

"I probably have some internal bleeding or something. A punctured lung. You know. The norm." When nobody was hurt, they joked about nearly dying. As an afterthought, when they were up and decorating again, Ichigo thought to himself about dying.

_What was it like, to die?_

* * *

><p>Three days, twelve hours, nine minutes and forty four seconds. Forty five. It had been that long since he had even thought about slumbering and forgetting, a lifelong habit he had broken himself into. Not when there was an Ichigo look alive running around the place. <em>How could he have not known?<em> It took everything he had to not chase him down and shake him, tell him who he really was.

But there was no way; one cannot simply do something as atrocious as that and survive to tell the tale, two hundred years later. There was no _fucking _way.

And there was another habit; the cursing. In the past year, he had found that using it when in moments of extreme pain, or of any extreme emotion, they would be relieved. Of course, he hardly ever felt pain, but he'd had the occasional person over for dinner, and had to act normal. Cussing, in this day and age, was normal. _Does the Ichigo look alike cuss? _He couldn't imagine hearing such dirty words out of that pretty mouth.

Thinking about the subject that was ailing him made his mind go to that dark place again, but this time, he let it.

_He couldn't' sleep a wink. Minus the fact that he had a very nice human lying on his place of rest; he just couldn't take his eyes off of him. He even caught himself poking lightly at Mr. Kurosaki, to see if he was alive. Even thought it would be of no use; he could hear the labored breathing a mile away._

_ It was around seven o'clock the next day when he roused, and he was just getting ready to call it quits and find somewhere to curl up. Thick, black curtains prevented any light from filtering through, so he could stay awake and do something during the day, if he wanted to. An ice box kept the house cooler than normal as well._

_ Back to Ichigo awaking. Those creamy brown orbs turned to him and gave him a once over before he smirked, a small twitch of the lips. Ichigo seemed amused._

_ "Well, Mr. Vampire, it seems you've taken me home."_

_ "Yes. Yes, I have." He was at a loss of words; so many things, so many scenarios he had gone through in his head while he watched the youth sleep, how could he have forgotten this one?_

_ Ichigo tucked his head down and reached forward, small sounds showing he was enjoying his stretch, much like a cat. Then, with warm curiosity, he turned back to him. _

_ "Why?" Again, he was tongue tied. Truth be told, he had expected Mr. Kurosaki to lash out and attack, in which he would have to suck him dry before he hurt anything. But, here he was, grinning lightly with an eyebrow raised, like this was some sort of game to him. And, maybe it was. Maybe it was a game for them both._

_ "Because…you interest me. I'd like to get to know you better. I fancy your blood flavor." Excuses – so many of them, but they never made the cut. His best reasons were one and three; blood and intrigue._

_ "All valid arguments, I guess; especially that last one. I suppose you _do _need blood to survive. What's so special about mine?" Baffled, he took in Ichigo's word as the orange haired youth shifted on the bed to face him, legs crossed, and hands in his lap, leaning forward slightly. _Damn this kid.

_"It tastes…good. And, you figured out my secret."_

_ "Well, it's not really a secret anymore, is it?"_

_ "What do you mean?" He was intrigued; no longer plagued by fatigue, he too acted in their conversation with vigor. _

_ "You've been in this town for a while as a great pianist; obviously, if civilians don't start seeing the effects of age on that pretty face of yours, they're going to worry; there was already talk about you being one way before I came into the picture." This baffled him, in more ways than one; the one that caught his attention, no matter how immature he was being, was that about his "pretty face". Did that mean the Ichigo found him attractive?_

_ "Well, Mr. Kurosaki, what do you suggest I do?" He didn't realize how close they were getting; was this alight? _

_ "I suggest you leave here with your most prized possessions; fake a death and change your name. Of course, you're going to need a blood bank…" This was going far beyond what he'd ever expected; he didn't know how he felt about Ichigo calling himself his blood bank, but regardless of how immature it was, the only thing that mattered was that this beautiful human with the world's best tasting blood (Dracula would agree)wanted to roam the world with him._

_ "Is that so, Mr. Kurosaki?" It was a hushed murmur as they slowly began to close the distance between them; he was first to act, a strong hand cupping the back of Ichigo's neck and raising him up as he pressed his cold, stone like lips to the plump warm ones of the body now plastered against him. _

_ How they had gotten from sitting to standing, he would never know. All he knew was that the kiss was the best he had ever experienced; their tongues dueled languidly and soon, even articles of clothing were missing. Again, he had no idea how he managed that either._

_ He had drunken from Ichigo that night as well, being less forceful about it; there was something about drinking blood of the person you're making love, and he couldn't place his finger on it. Was the elevated heart rate a bonus? Was it the slight salty tang from the sheen of perspiration that would bead on his neck?_

_ Or was it something entirely different?_

_ Whatever it was, it would twist at him in ways that would probably make him scream. But, he felt like he could take it._

But he couldn't. Snorting lightly to himself, he took a sip of the whisky in his glass; legs were crossed as he watched the sun finally go down and dared the stars to show themselves.

That was too far; he'd have to get rid of his thought process somehow. He mused at how he should have gone senile or at least forgotten most of his past with how old he was. Even he had to work to get at his exact age, but it was up there. He resembled that of a new adult, in their twenties. The body he was granted would not get sick or fall ill as long as he kept it in good shape. It could only get stronger.

Finally, the sun went down; twinkling dots of light laughed gleefully at him as Sister Moon showed her pale face and washed the night with a milky white. It was only a few days until Halloween, and this year would be _special _to the town of Karakura; the moon would be full.

Perfect night for a feast.

And, speaking of a feast, he would have to go out soon, lest he become a rampaging monster. You see, if a vampire doesn't get its nourishment from a human at least once a day (it should at least to average to seven people a week; he usually just gorged every two or three days.), they get slightly sick. The sicker they get the more animalistic and monstrous they become; first to go is judgment, and then it's the thought process all together that leaves. Then, it's the ability to understand and see any color but red, black and white. He had been there a few times, when the wound of what Ichigo did was still fresh and oozing pain.

He had no intention of returning to that stage, either, especially with today's advancements in technology; he'd a lab rat faster than you could scream "fuck", because at that point, there would be nothing else to say.

A vicious knock on the door roused him from his deep thoughts and replaced the content and faraway look with a snarl. _Who dared to interrupt him?_ Sighing deeply through his nose, he got up and walked to the door, still only clad in a pair of boxers.

Upon opening the door, two young men and a woman were revealed. The woman had bright blond hair and green eyes, with three braids draping over her broad shoulders. She wore a bandana over the bottom half of her face that had a make believe shark's mouth, as well as a midriff bearing shirt with low rise boot cuts, showing off the abs no adolescent boy could ever hope for.

One of the men had inky black hair and bright green eyes as well. Believe it or not, those two were brother and sister; both stoic with striking emerald eyes, and that was about it. He was in a pair of black slacks and a silk red dress shirt, his black tie neatly pressed. Although related, they both had very different social lives and fashion senses.

The last one got on his nerves on a daily basis, making it his goal to get to his final straw before the sun came up. Long black hair fell messily over his shoulders and a white sweatshirt with a giant white hood practically hung off of his twig like body; the dark jeans were no better.

"Wow, he couldn't even get dressed for us. Usually you make it your number on goal to look like a slick pussy cat."

"Shut the fuck up, Nnoitra." He snapped, baring his teeth lightly. The thinner man cackled as he pushed his way through, behind the siblings that had entered politely.

"Be quiet, guys; we have business to discuss. Get dressed; we may have some business to take care of." The inky haired man eyed him with light disdain, but it didn't bother him; the small man was like that to everyone.

"Whatever, Ulquiorra…make yourself at home. You too, Haribel…except for you." He finished with his eyes glaring at the still cackling and shaking frame of Nnoitra.

"Just hurry the fuck up; we haven't all night. And you_ know _how Aizen gets." Rolling the magnificent blues he possessed, he waved a hand before striding off to his room to dress his finest; a meeting with the boss man was _never _a good thing.

Oh yeah; he had found more of his kind several years back and had jointed out of desperation. Obviously, he hated every last _bit _of it now, but soon, _soon, _he'd be able to leave and have it be just him once again.

And, for some reason, when he thought of that, an orange haired man popped into his vision, and it wasn't the one he was expecting; it was the softer gaze with warm curiosity that grazed his mind, as well as the slightly parted lips…

Well. He'd have one thing to make sure of before he could leave.

_He'd make sure of it._

* * *

><p>AN :D It's weird; sorry for the delay! Ah! I had to go to Seattle and speak German and get Jeep parts! x) Oh well. Please, enjoy! I have finals AGAIN this week, so bear with me here. :) Thanks to all the reviews! Woo! Keep it up; I love it when I find all these reviews in my inbox! :D


	4. Coincidence

_The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool._

–_Stephen King–_

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or any references made to any particular person, subject, line, etc., etc.

*Again, Grimmjow is denoted as he; his name will be introduced when he and Ichigo meet.

Please, excuse the tardiness of my story!

**Another note! Please, do no flame my idea for making Masaki Urahara's sister; it will serve great purposes, believe me~

* * *

><p>Coincidence<p>

To be called out in the middle of the night, without any notice, was like something out of that awful horror movie he had mentioned before; normally, even an urgent matter would be pushed off until later. But now, _now _he had sent familiar faces to grab him up out of his musings and had the audacity to make _them _wait for him.

_Bastard. _

Finally, when the boss man decided to make his grand entrance, Haribel and Ulquiorra were in the process of trying to restrain him, and they weren't doing so well.

"Come, my children – your brothers and sisters await us in the meeting room." And with that, he stalked off in the most pompous matter you could ever imagine, leaving the four of them to decide whether or not they wanted to follow; even though there was no choice.

"C'mon pussy cat." Nnoitra taunted, to which he replied with a good old fashioned middle finger. There were only a few things that he loathed with his entire being, and one of them was Nnoitra. The tall, skinny _prick _of a man had strutted in front of him, keeping his stride long enough so that he wouldn't run into him; but, of course, Nnoitra had just stopped abruptly in front of him, causing a collision anyway.

"_Move!" _He demanded in a hiss, fixing the lapels of the long trench coat he had worn before taking it off; it was raining heavily outside, and he was in a very nice suit.

Cackles heard from behind migrated to his left as he saw the thin man plop down in the designated seat; he had a seat next to that one. Groaning inwardly at how immature this meeting could turn out to be, he prowled forward and sank into his chair, a black storm cloud above his head. This was not a good time at _all._

"Now, you may all be wondering why I have brought you here tonight on such short notice." Nobody had to nod; their _Lord _already knew what they were feeling. As a head vampire, the boss man had the ability to sense when someone in his…_tribe_…disagreed or felt rather ill mannered about what he had to say. Without missing a beat, he continued on.

"As you know, the Priests are very, _very _angry with us managing the population of humans." Few chuckles rang through the room; this was a _very _serious matter. Sitting straighter, he listened in.

"So far, they've managed to keep the humans safe with protective barriers, holding many formal events were everyone is invited on holy ground. Things like that. This, as you also know, has become a problem. One of our brothers passed this morning from the depravity of blood. His arrogance and stubbornness, however, are also cause of this. Had he asked us for help, we would not have shunned him as he thought; we would have helped. So remember this, my children; as long as you stay loyal to me and your family, all will be well."

Enough! He wanted to shout from the roof tops, wind whipping through his coat with his brazen fist reaching for the sky. If _only _he could escape this place; there had to be _something. _

"I know how we shall counter this, though; our enemies have one true mastermind behind this. That mastermind has a nephew, and without his nephew, the only thing left that is related to him in blood, he would collapse. And that is when we take back what is ours!" Without realizing it, he was bobbing his head lightly to agree.

You could call it a mistake.

"Ah, the Sexta; I know for _sure _you can do it." Cocking a blue brow, he looked over to the boss man with a wry expression. _Him? _There were five others before him that could do it less sloppily; with his luck, he'd have killed the nephew within minutes; he didn't like children. That was an understatement; he _hated _children. Something about their questioning and supernatural sensing innocence that really threw him off. Like how Ichigo did, when they had first met. Although that was a rather pleasant surprise, children were unsettling. Always watching with wide eyes. It honestly freaked him out.

"Why me?" he finally asked, his gruff voice even scratchier from not being used. Boss man smiled and laughed lightly.

"Because; you're my little god when it comes to this kind of thing. Before this night ends, expect a phone call, or a text. Then, you will go and get him, bring him to me, and we will continue from there. You are all excused." And with that, the shuffling sounds of hasty men and women seemed too loud compared to the almost awkward silence before.

"Whew, looks like we're in good hands now!" His eyes shut in annoyance; grunting, he strutted off, not wanting anything to do with Nnoitra's crap. Without realizing it, he forgot his trench coat. And it was pouring rain.

_He _hated _rain._

* * *

><p>"Trick or treat!" A bunny, a ghost, and Iron Man laughed happily at Ichigo's door. Laughing himself as he reminisced in the years when he was the ghost parading town, he grabbed handfuls of tooth decaying treats and dumped them in their buckets and pillow cases. With wide, uneven grins, the children thanked him with squeals of delight as their parents gave him look of barely repressed horror; he knew <em>exactly <em>what he was doing. And, he mused, he'd get pay back; his own offspring returning with sweets and sleeping only a handful of hours for a whole _month. _

"Hey, Ichigo! It looks like it's going to start raining really soon. We should hold the party indoors!" Orihime exclaimed, pointing to the nasty clouds coming in. They looked like bruises on the pink and orange sunset. Children on Halloween usually trick or treated early, thanks to the urban legend of gentlemen vampires and undead countesses looking to warm a mortals bed. Nodding languidly in agreement, Ichigo shut the door to the enormous mansion and jogged towards the back, where the party was originally going to be held.

Already there were large drops and wet spots dappling the Spanish style tile and dampening the table cloths.

_Freaking perfect!_

"Ah, and Mother Nature strikes again! The woman hates me, I swear!" Renji exclaimed dramatically, carrying two folding tables back to the shed. Ichigo smirked.

"Everyone hates you." He snickered, only to laugh harder when a powerful hit to his chest made him lose his balance. Of course, it was all just a friendly gesture; Renji was just a beast.

"No, everyone hates _you!_"

"If I wanted my comeback, I would have wiped it off your mom's _face."_

"Oh my god!" Rukia squealed as both men fall to the ground, writhing in laughter. Ichigo usually never said raunchy things like that, but he'd been waiting for the right moment.

"Good one!" Renji laughed, still holding his side. Ichigo shrugged his shoulders as best as he could.

"That was nothing compared to what I have up my sleeve." Chuckling some more, they helped each other up and continued to move the outside portion of their party inside.

Just as the last few chairs were toweled off (it had begun to rain _extremely _hard), it was seven o'clock, the time when everyone would arrive. First to arrive were Ichigo's old friends Mizoru and Keigo. Wide, face splitting grins adorned their features as they hugged and clapped each other on the back in a man like way; it had been a while.

"Man, you're all old looking now, Keigo!" Ichigo joked, eyeing the short hair cut he was sporting. With a chuckle, he ran a hand through it.

"Yeah, the military requires it, though."

That was definitely _news._

"You're in the military? What branch?" Uryuu queried, walking away from a few of the other people that were over; his old friend's announcement was much more interesting than the boring chit chatter of the females.

"Yeah, I'm a military dog now! Just a foot soldier for the JSDF, though I'm working my way up there. Crack shot, you know?"

"It makes up for his irrational fear or scorpions and the girly squeal he makes whenever he sees one."

There was laughter as Mizoru joined in; apparently, he, too, was involved with the JSDF now. _Good for them _Ichigo thought; Mizoru, a computer genius and Keigo, the foot soldier; somehow, it didn't surprise the orangette.

"Uh…Ichigo? Someone's here?" Orihime was bounding towards them, her fake fangs eerily real.

"No shit? Uh…why is it important?"

"Because we don't _know _him!" Sighing lightly and grabbing the glass of wine he had acquired (why wine, he'd never know.), and made his way to the door.

And there, like something out of his nightmares, was that blue haired man he's seen at the bar.

_Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh _god!

"Uh…can I help you sir?" Damn Ichigo's shaking voice, his usual light, baritone now an octave higher it seemed. Like something out of a woman's wet dream, the blue haired man turned, the white dress shirt plastered to his skin, and looked at him through those stormy blue bedroom eyes and smiled slowly, revealing perfect teeth.

"Yeah, you can…" His words, no matter how sure of himself he seemed, were wary. _Odd; for someone who was dripping with something other than water. _And Ichigo wasn't a gay man.

After a few moments of awkwardness, Ichigo cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm not much of a mind reader, so you're going to have to help me help you; what do you need?" Ichigo made sure his words weren't unkind, because even though he asked, the man might only need to borrow someone's phone for a ride home.

_Who would be picking up this man, anyway?_ Said man's smile grew wider, if only slightly.

"I'd like to come in and warm myself in your abode, as well as possibly wait for the storm to pass." Was that…an accent? Remember, Ichigo is _so _straight…

Right?

The blue haired man in front of him was waiting with a small smile on his face, like he knew of the absurd thoughts that were going through his mind right now. Shaking his head once fiercely, he stood aside.

"Come on in, stranger…?" The blue haired man smiled an almost pained, satisfied look on his face. Like he knew it would happen, hated it for happening, yet loved it at the same time. _An old soul._

"Grimmjow. My name is Grimmjow, and it's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

><p><em>"Come on in, stranger…?" <em>His Ichigo would have said something like that; of course, there was more simplicity to the way this human said it; it was nice, hearing the same voice wash over his abused ears, but at the same time, he felt as if he were betraying _his _Ichigo.

He knew how absurd it was, telling him his name; even now, while he sat on a stool in the empty kitchen (his party was downstairs, in a "game room" type thing.); he chuckled at the look on his face when he gave him his name.

_"Grimmjow. My name is Grimmjow, and it's a pleasure to meet you…"_

_"Ichigo! My name, its Ichigo…" Blushing, he herded him into the kitchen, where he said he'd get some towels._

So Grimmjow had finally found out that the boy was, indeed, Ichigo. Reincarnated, in the flesh, with that same, smart ass, fighting spirit and the same sable brown eyes, giving away every little detail to what the teen was feeling.

A clearing of the throat signaled his return, and the blue haired vampire turned in the chair, eyeing him with what he hoped was a seductive stare. Truthfully, Grimmjow seriously hoped that this boy was the reincarnation, that he could bring out his old Ichi and persuade him to join him this time, unlike last time; how awful it seemed.

Grimmjow was definitely going to take precautions this time.

"Uh, I brought you a towel…" Ichigo's face was flushed; the blush looked nice on him. One minor difference, Grimmjow noticed, was that this Ichigo was much more expressive than his. And, surprisingly, he found a liking to it.

"Thank you." It had definitely been a while since he so much as _thought_ of uttering that phrase.

"Yeah…" Ichigo leaned against the counter, hands in his pockets while Grimmjow toweled off his hair and began to unbutton the expensive, white silk dress shirt. Had he only remembered his damn trench coat…

_Had you remembered that _damn _trench coat, you wouldn't have gotten to meet this boy._

Popping his neck lazily, a devilish idea popped into his head. A sly smirk blossomed on his face as he slid out of the drenched fabric and placed it over the back of a chair, exposing a well toned torso that was still dripping with water.

The vampire had read somewhere, that being drenched and dripping with whatever was sexually appealing. Briefly, while he sat and fished his phone out of his pocket, he pondered what Ichigo would look like, all wet, dripping, _delectable – _

"Do you need a shirt?" Looking up, his deep blue eyes (he needed to feed soon) met with Ichigo's chocolate ones, which were alight with embarrassment and pure curiosity. And then something _else…_He couldn't put his finger on it.

"No, I'm fine." With the sweetest smile he could manage after the imagery that threatened to tighten his pants, Grimmjow checked his phone, noting that the boss man had sent him a message right after the meeting.

_That important?_

**I do hope you can cope. Kisuke Urahara is the man I was mentioning. His late sister, Masaki Urahara, married a wealthy doctor, who is part of the fighting forces against us. They have a son and two daughters; I'm not interested in anyone but Kisuke's nephew. –A**

_I do hope you can cope. _What was that supposed to mean? The blue eyed man scoffed at it softly.

Right after that message, another soft beep signaled the arrival of another one. Grimmjow was so engrossed in his message that he barely noticed Ichigo announcing that he was going back downstairs, and that when he was nice and dry (the discomfort was apparent in his voice, as well as the embarrassment, all because of Grimmjow's absence of a shirt), he could join the party, if he wanted to.

And it was a damn good idea he left when he did. After many years of hiding his expressions behind cold masks of indifference, there was nothing he could do about the look of surprise that attacked his face at that moment.

**Ichigo Kurosaki, son of Masaki and Isshin Kurosaki, 22 years of age, Medical Student, in the process of earning a Master's Degree, light red hair (one could say orange), brown eyes, 5'9''. Again, please cope for me, Sexta. – A**

_Holy _shit.

He forgot to breathe; it wasn't that he needed to, but out of habit, he usually did. It was like this man could hear his thoughts, like he was watching his _every _move. Why did he choose him for this particular assignment? Did the boss man _enjoy _Grimmjow's heart ache? What if this was the man that had charmed him all those years ago? What if old wounds reopened, and he couldn't continue with the assignment?

_Was he trying to kill him?_

"….that's what I'm saying! But really – oh…my goodness." Shaking his head lightly, he looked up and met the eyes of a bodacious redhead and a petite, violet eyed girl. Their mouths were open lightly, and the little tips of small canines were visible. Confused, he tipped his head to the side and nearly _willed _them to tell him if they were of his kind.

"...oh! Ichigo said you were up here, stranger. Don't worry –" the petite woman added, pulling them out with ease. The redhead followed suit. "They're fake! We're using them as props for our party. Pretty realistic though, huh?" She smirked at him, cocking a delicate eyebrow while she opened the large fridge and pulled out a punch bowl. Furrowing his brow, Grimmjow nodded.

"Yeah, they're pretty realistic." He kept his lips close together; even though he wasn't feeding, the time when his fangs were the longest, he still had quite the canine. They giggled.

"I can see why Ichigo was so flustered! I'll bet you turn all the gay girls straight and straight guys gay." The redhead giggled, making her way back down the stairs.

He was confused; why was Ichigo flustered?

_Oh yeah. No shirt. _

Grimmjow noticed the pink tint to the girls' cheeks and smiled slyly to himself. There could be some fun to this assignment; even if Ichigo wasn't a reincarnation, he still got a kick out of how flustered and embarrassed he could make him.

Another ding signaled the last and final message, Grimmjow hoped.

**Now, please. From what I can tell, you're in the perfect position to get my hostage. Do not fail me, Sexta. Do whatever it takes. –A **

Chewing on his lip, he looked at the backs of Ichigo's female friends and sighed deeply.

"Hey, wait up…mind if I join the party?"

* * *

><p>AN: AHHH. What now? What now? :D Mwahaha! Goodness, I got to go to a Five Finger Death Punch concert! WOO! Soulfly was there too, and Windowpane. They're a good band, but they're just starting, so look them up! :) Review, review, review! I got these tattoos man, my hands are like NUMB. Veritas and Aequitas, Truth and Justice man. Soooooo bad ass! On my hands :3

REVIEW! Please? :D


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